


The Necks of Our Youth

by InkDomain



Category: The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: Friendship/Love, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-11 03:52:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12926811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkDomain/pseuds/InkDomain
Summary: The Reader has protected Clementine from this new world since the beginning, and they will continue to protect her through the hardships of Carver's reign at Howe's Hardware Store.





	The Necks of Our Youth

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my deviantART (OperationStabTheCake).  
> Not proofread.  
> The Walking Dead Game belongs to Telltale.  
> Based upon 'Pain' by Hollywood Undead.  
> 

The mixture of salt and metal tainted and soiled your taste buds even after you spat out the bulk of your own blood and onto the recently cleaned floor of Howe’s Hardware’s, your vision slightly blurry as your head pounded with pain and your gag reflex was continually triggered from the surge of blood that flooded your mouth. Your chest constricted and ached from the blockage of your windpipe thanks to the blood, your eyes burning with fresh tears as your stomach constricted with nausea. You stayed in your hunched over position, grimacing at the pool of saliva and blood on the floor below you as your arms throbbed from staying in the constricted position of being tied behind your back.  
The uncomfortable zip-ties that were used as handcuffs were digging into your wrists, undoubtedly leaving marks that only deepened in colour the more you moved. Troy was a sadistic asshole, but you were sure that he just put those on you because Carver told him to. You hear a grunt of annoyance, and through your tears you see Troy sneering at you and the mess you had made on the floor. Before Troy can belittle you for tarnishing the ground with your bodily fluids, the speakers of the tannoy crackle into life and causes you to wince at the high-pitch noise of tuning penetrating your hurting head.  
“We must accept those who have strayed from the flock back into our group.” Your stomach churns and your gag reflex threatens to trigger again at the sound of Carver’s gravelly voice booming around the store and to the refugees. “Many of you wonder why we bring them back. It’s simple; the youth that they had taken with them is detrimental to our advancement in this new world. The future generations need to be monitored to be raised correctly, so they can survive in this harsh time. Without our guidance, the necks of the youth are willingly placed into the noose. Those people out in the world, they’re not like we are. They’ll tell them lies like it’s God’s truth, and they’ll shape their minds against us.”

Your body jerks when you feel a hand on your shoulder, but your muscles relax as much as they can in their restrained position when you see the mess of dark curly hair tucked under the baseball cap. Clementine helps you to sit into a better position, moving you from putting all of your weight onto your knees before she wipes away the blood and saliva that marked your chin. Once you were as clean as her sleeve could get you, she wraps her small arms around your neck just to get some comfort. You can’t hug her back, but you mutter to her with a wounded throat that you’re okay, but her warmth is taken from you thanks to Troy. He shoves her back, making her stumble but thankfully was caught and set on steady feet by Sarita. Troy is yelling at you but you’re not listening, he was saying something about how you’re disrespectful for doing that whilst Carver is talking. He grabs a fistful of your untidy hair at the back of your head, tightening his grip until you’re sure there will be a bald patch afterwards and he pulls you up to your unsteady feet. You sway and stumble as he lets go of your hair, almost falling when he gives your shoulder a sharp shove forwards. You lose your balance but manage to regain it on your own, sending a glare in his direction which he doesn’t take to kindly. He raises his hand and swings, smacking your cheek with the back of his hand and jerking your head to the side.  
“Don’t look at me like that.” Troy barks at you, spit flying from his thin lips as he goes to give you another hit. You close your eyes and wait for the sting from the impact, but it doesn’t find your face and you open your eyes in confusion. You see Kenny standing in front of you, protecting you from the blow before he throws a glob of spit at Troy’s face.  
“Don’t you fucking touch ‘em, you motherfucking asshole!” Kenny threatens, his authority is cut down when Troy clouts him directly in the nose with the butt of his AK47. You gag and recoil when the sickening crunching sound of breaking bone is heard after the impact of the gun on Kenny’s nose, he falls to his knees and is unable to cover his nose and blood gushes down his face and drips to the floor by your splatter of blood.  
“Stay down, old fucker.” Troy grunts in an unamused tone, kicking Kenny in the side so he falls over and curls in on himself. Troy moves past the incapacitated man and towards you, digging his fingers into your shoulder and pulling you to your feet in a bruising manner. You frantically look from Kenny to the rest of the group for help, but they’re all too scared of being abused to do anything. Clementine tries to step forward to stop you from being separated from the group, but Rebecca pulls her back before she gets hurt and you give the heavily pregnant lady a nod of appreciation. 

Troy marches you away from the group as the others at Howe’s herd the renegades into the outside containment designed for those who need to earn their way back into Carver’s group. He keeps his bruising grip on your shoulder as you try to walk without the steadiness of your arms, causing you to squirm and be a general nuisance.  
“Where are you taking me?” You ask as your eyes move from the gun strapped over his torso and the route ahead of you, he makes a noise of showing how annoyed he was before shoving you forward towards the stairs that leads to the roof of Howe’s Hardware.  
“Just shut the fuck up.” Troy snaps in reply, throwing open the door that leads out to the roof. He keeps pushing you and giving your shoulder blades sharp prods with his bony fingers until you both reach the edge of the roof, and you look out over the expanse of the parking lot and the few Walkers that were dotted around nearby. Your heart hammers as visions of Troy pushing you off the roof to your death below flashed behind your eyes, and when he moves to stand behind you, you start to panic. You squirm and get ready to run away, but you feel him roughly grab your hands and pull them into a more uncomfortable position. He grumbles to himself as you feel pressure against your wrists and the zip-tie, until your hands are free and you hold them against your chest- massaging the damaged areas.  
“Carver wants you to learn how to shoot, why he asked me I don’t fucking know.” Troy tells you as he moves to stand beside you, the cut zip-tie now on the floor of the roof behind you. He removes the AK47 from his torso then shoves the weighty assault rifle into your chest, your arms automatically shooting up to support its weight. You look down at the heavy gun, then up to Troy with a blank look.  
“The fuck you looking at? Shoot a fucking Walker, dumbass.” Troy growls, smacking the back of your head as a form of encouragement and you stumble with the impact, briefly going off balance before you turn towards the car park. You look down at the rifle and try to aim, you’ve only ever fired a pistol before and those were difficult enough. You take aim at a random Walker who was just minding its own undead business, your shaking finger squeezes the trigger and the recoil smashes the butt of the gun back into your shoulder and you almost fall flat on your ass. The bullet completely misses, embedding itself into the concrete a few miles away from the target and you dare to glance at Troy after the humiliating attempt at shooting.  
“The fuck was that?!” Troy sneers, obviously unimpressed with your shooting skills despite the fact that you’re only fourteen years old and malnourished thanks to the apocalypse. Troy snatches the AK47 from your shaking hands, takes aim down the barrel of the gun and pulls the trigger at the accumulating Walkers near the barricades where the refugees were trying to expand their living areas. “It’s motherfucking May-Day, bitches.” He utters under his breath before dispatching all of the undead, splattering their brains and smirking with pride at his handiwork. He rams the rifle back to you, forcing it against your chest and causing your breath to puff out of your lungs. “You miss the next one, I’ll give you two black fucking eyes.” 

You take aim and some of the dead that were emerging from the forest line, attracted by the gun shots, and you try to calm your breathing to control the recoil better. However, your frustration was increasing with the fact that the Walkers were getting closer and Troy wouldn’t stop gloating over the fact that he’ll be more than willing to smack you up. In a split second, your mind went blank and your anger took over. Just before you pull the trigger, you change your target to be a lone Walker to Troy’s foot. As soon as his foot came into view, you pulled the trigger without thinking of the consequences, and the sound of the rifle going off filled your ears followed by Troy’s howling of pain. He hits the floor like a sack of shit, blood splattering and pooling faster than you would’ve guessed. You stumble backwards, dropping the AK47 on the floor of the roof out of Troy’s reach as you watch him writhe with agony. He lets out a string of curses and screams, your head snapping to look at the door that leads downstairs as it bursts open- Tavia and Bonnie rushing out to see what had happened.  
“What the hell happened?!” Tavia yells, her eyes landing on the blood and Troy’s thrashing body as he held his wounded foot. You look up at a furious Tavia and a shocked Bonnie, stepping away more as Bonnie tries to come closer to you as Tavia rushes to help Troy so he doesn’t bleed out.  
“HE’S CRAZY, FUCKING CRAZY! THE FUCKER SHOT ME!” Troy screams before cursing, and Tavia quickly calls for medical attention over the walkie-talkie and Bonnie escorts you straight to Carver’s office without needing him to demand her to. 

\----

Hours must have past since Bonnie had delivered you to Carver’s office which overlooked the shop floor of Howe’s Hardware Store, but all concept of time had been traded for physical and psychological violence. Kneeling on the carpeted floor for hours after your attack on Troy had left your knees mutilated, ripped and bleeding along with an array of different coloured bruises. In an act to dehumanise you and embarrass you, Carver had stripped you down to your boxers and left you on your knees as he circled you and inflicted abuse. Your thin body is worn with pain and shaking from the slight chill in the air, your throat is raw from choked cries and constant crying. The saltiness of your tears would run over the open cuts and wounds over your body, making you flinch with every breath as you sucked on your teeth to make it through the stinging pain. Carver is making a point to break you on the inside and out, he was weakening the strength of your mind with each bone he aimed to break in your body.  
“[F/N].” Carver’s cold voice slices through the veil of pain that is wrapped around your brain like a hot knife through butter, pulling you back into reality as he calls your name. “Are you listening to me?” He asks as he studies your bloodied and bruised face, watching your reaction as you stare at him through your right eye- your left is swelled shut and you’re sure it’s dark in colour. He narrows his eyes, pushing you to answer him, and it fires a shudder of fear up the length of your spine. You open your cut and inflamed lips which tremble slightly from coldness and fear, his presence was like an anaconda- wrapping around you and crushing your bones, readying you to be devoured. You gather up all the saliva and phlegm you can gather from the bottom of your throat before sitting it out at him, the mixture contains blood and splatters on his boots. Carver’s mouth turns downwards in distaste and disgust as he straightens up, grabs a tissue from his desk, and cleans his boots of the offending bodily discharge you had spat at him. He balls up the used tissue and disposes of it into the nearby bin, walks closer to you, then kicks you hard in the stomach. The kick is so hard that it lifts you off of the floor slightly, forcing out all of the air that was in your lungs and causes you to gag and wheeze in response. 

Carver grabs your beaten face and forces you to look into his evil eyes, the light in them burning from the fear you were fuelling. He leers down at you, his fingers digging into your skin until you feel your jaw bone being bruises as he watches your eyes burn with the pain of being kicked so hard in the stomach.  
“Listen to me, [F/N]. I like you. You’re tough, confident, for a kid. You’ll be a great leader. You’re the type of person I need in the new generation, the new wave of kids need to be tougher than us- and you’ll be the most prized leader to help mould them.” You groan, a mixture of pain and the agony of having to listen to another of Carver’s demented speeches. “It’s all about survival of the fittest out there, and with someone as headstrong as you paired up with someone as strong as Clementine- you’re going to create a tenacious new generation.” Your cheeks heat up at the implication, you look away from him as your jaw clenches. He doesn’t deserve to even say Clem’s name, she’s a Goddess compared to the scum that he is. Carver smirks at your reaction before letting go of your face, he lets you lay on the ground as you try to gain control over your burning lungs. He doesn’t let you rest for long, he takes hold of your hair and pulls you to stand on your feet and forces out a scream as he does so. He marches you out of his office, he forces you to trek with him down the stairs and across the store floor to the pen where the rest of your group was waiting. As soon as Kenny sees the state that you’re in, including the fact that you’re stripped to your boxers, he starts throwing himself against the pen door in an attempt to fight the closest person and get to you. A string of slurs and curses leaves his lips as Carver marches you closer, and indicates for the guard to quiet him down. You couldn’t look at any of them, especially Clementine, you couldn’t bare to see the way she looks at you with the way you were right now. You needed to be strong for her, and if she sees how far into Hell you’ve walked, you couldn’t protect her.  
“Look at the world outside, [F/N].” Carver starts after the guard knocks Kenny out for being too rowdy, the rest of the group shocked and scared with the condition you were in. “It’s dying. We can’t change that, all we have to do is adapt.” He looks down at you, a smile cut into his face like he’s looking at a piece of clay he can mould into the perfect little soldier. “People like you, people like us, we can survive through this. I can’t do this alone, it’s better to be feared than loved. We have to be tough, for the ones we love. Understand?” He lets go of your hair to pet your head like he was giving his child affection, you suck in air through your teeth for strength as you force a nod. You need him to believe that you’re on his side, you need to be in his good books if you ever hope of getting your people out of here alive. “People like us, we’ve been through Hell. We’ve sold our souls just to keep going, and I respect you for that. But, if you stray from our flock one more time, and I’m going to have to show you the Devil one more time.” He’s smiling but his tone is no where near happy, to please him you force another nod without speaking and he gives your head another pet. “I knew you would understand.”

Carver nods to the guards for them to open the door to the pen, your people back off out of fear for acting out against the grain, and he pushes you inside. You stumble over your own two feet and fall- all the strength has left your body after the torture you had just endured, and you let yourself fall to the cold ground. You have just enough strength left in your muscles to curl yourself into a ball, laying in the foetal position and whimpering to yourself as you feel your energy seeping through your wounds. Clementine was the first to be in your field on vision, her knees in front of your eyes as her hands cup your face to see if you’re conscious. You try to nuzzle into the comfort of her palms, her words of terror and concern fuzzy to your ears. Carlos follows her, and as gently as he can he picks you up and lays you onto the bed that is there for Rebecca. You cry out in pain at every movement, there wasn’t anywhere that Carlos didn’t touch that didn’t result in agony, and he apologises as he looks over your beaten body. He did the best he could to tend to your wounds with what little he had, whilst Carver shoves your tattered clothes through the gaps in the shutter before returning to his office. 

You succumb to unconsciousness for what must have been several hours, when you wake it’s dark outside and you’re dressed, with your deepest wounds bandaged. Your body felt like it had been dragged through No Man’s Land and then sent through the first two realms of Hell. The swelling in your left eye had gone down slightly, enough for you to see out of it and gain a better field of vision. After you blink a few times and recollect your thoughts, you feel a hand wrapped around yours and give a soft squeeze. You manage to turn your head, which felt like it was filled with lead, and you look to your side to see Clementine looking drained and exhausted, but still smiling and holding your hand.  
“Hey.” She whispers, her eyes red and slightly puffy from obvious crying. You wondered if she had been crying over you, and you wish she didn’t have to. You give her hand a slight squeeze back, happy to just feel her hand in yours and her by your side.  
“Hey, Clem.” You respond, slightly surprised at how hoarse your voice was the moment it leaves your throat. You were happy you could still talk, even if it was rougher than Carver’s, after screaming your throat raw from the abuse you had suffered.  
“I’m sorry.” Clementine replies, her voice breaking slightly with the threat of crying as she leans down to press a chaste kiss to your cheek. You manage to smile, just the corners of your lips turning upwards as you force yourself to lift up your arm and brush away a few curls from blocking her eyes.  
“For what? You didn’t do this to me. Don’t cry.” You cup her cheek and with the pad of your calloused thumb, you brush away the stray tear that falls from her pained eyes but she still manages to force a brave smile just for you.  
“Carlos says you need to rest.” You chuckle, wince and coil in on yourself briefly as the pain spreads from the inside. I agree to get some more rest, as long as she promises she’ll try and sleep too. 

\----

It had been two nights since you had been returned to your people and trapped within the pen, two nights since you had been stripped and tortured for shooting Troy in the foot. You were starting to despise the way Clementine would look at you, the guilt and pity in her eyes was enough to tell you that she was blaming herself for what Carver had put you through. Due to your injuries, you were limited in what you could do around the store but you still needed to earn your keep. Clementine and Sarah were instructed to do some work in the greenhouse up on the roof, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t worry with Reggie watching over them. The two girls were sent back, and you hobble over to greet the two. Sarah had been in a comatose state ever since Carver had forced Carlos to slap her, so you just assumed her behaviour was because of that, but now Clementine was similar to her. You pull her aside, wanting to know what had spooked her so much and needing to know what you could do to protect her.  
“Carver killed Reggie.” Clementine reveals to you with a cracked voice, her eyes staring like she was still reliving the murder she witnessed until you wrap your arms around her and pull her against your chest. She’s shaking like a leaf, and you watch Sarah to ensure she didn’t do something that could hurt herself or others.  
“What happened?” You ask Clementine once she had calmed down slightly, you knew she was still in shock but now she was more distressed than when she walked back into the pen.  
“Reggie told me and Sarah to pick berries an-and Sarah was still shell-shocked when her dad hit her, so I helped her and forgot to do my work.” You nodded as you listened, rubbing soft circles against her back in a comforting way as you urged her to continue. “Carver came to check on us, and saw my work wasn’t done, so he blamed Reggie…he pushed him off the roof…” You noticed her body was starting to shake harder as she recounted what happened on the roof, but she still refused to cry. You try to give her comforting words, but you’re cut off by the pen’s shutter being opened.  
“Rise and shine, little birdies.” Carver smiles as he calls out to get everyone’s attention, he approaches you and places his hand on your shoulder to pull you closer to him. After what Clementine had told you, you never would have guessed that this man had just murdered another person in cold blood with the way he was acting.  
“Come with me.” You didn’t want to, you didn’t want to be anywhere near this man and the unseen blood that was on his hands from all the lives he’s claimed for his delusional beliefs. He guided you out of the pen, leaving your group in Troy’s and Tavia’s hands as you recognise the path back to his office. You start shaking as memories of your torture rises from the walk to his office, and when he opens the door your eyes land on Alvin. He looked like he had been through worse than you, your stomach twisting like coils of snakes as Carver pushes you inside and forces you to sit in the chair opposite his desk. Your eyes never leave Alvin’s beaten body, looking for any sign of life in him as he stays in the corner of the room. You swallow the lump in your throat, sitting on the edge of the chair as Carver sits in his own chair and leans back.  
“Tell me, [F/N], what do you think about the youth?” Carver asks, and just the nature of the question has the burning bile rise in your throat and leave a bitter taste in your mouth. He brought you here as a test, to see what your reaction would be to seeing Alvin in this shape- a test of loyalty.  
“Their rage is the key to survival.” You respond, you needed to act the part that you were willing to be shaped into the monster that he is. His smile widens, his elbows resting on the arm rests of the chair and he interlocks his fingers, locking eyes with you over his hands.  
“What about the people who are above you?” He continues, prodding and probing to see if he can catch you off-guard. He’s already murdered one person today, what would another life be to this man?  
“They claim that they love us, but look at what they’ve done to this world. They drug you, numb you, and they’re never there when you need them. Fill us with terror then crush us, pretending that they care.”  
“What do you say to them?”  
“Fuck you.” Carver’s grin changes, his face shifts into that of a predatory who knows he has cornered his prey and is waiting for the right moment to lunge and tear off your head. He rises from his seat, unlocking his hands and moving around the desk to stand in front of you. He leans back, the back of this thighs resting against the sharp edge of the wooden desk as he folds his arms over his chest.  
“You’re an excellent example of a leader, [F/N]. With my people, they look up to me to find the truth and whatever I say- they do. Don’t you want that kind of power?” You shake your head, hearing a light grunt from Alvin distracts you. You hoped he was still alive, because if he was dead and actually turning into a Walker, you had no doubt that Carver would feed you to him to save his own skin. “And why don’t you want that? You’re passing up the opportunity to be the person that everyone looks up to.”  
“Anyone that is looked up to always ends up being as fucked up as them. In your group, you just enforce disorders. All we ever get is blamed and pushed around, well who’s the fucked up one now?” You turn to him with a snarl, watching his eyes cloud over with a darkness that chills you to the marrow in your bones. He stays silent as he nods, moving yours words around his mouth to get a taste of them before he makes a sudden move. He leans forward, grabs your left hand and pins it to the top of his desk. In a flick of his wrist, there’s a flash of stainless steel and then a sharp, searing hot pain. The scream leaves your throat before you piece together what had happened, pulling your hand away from the knife that was now stained in blood as your wide eyes stare from the new stub on your hand, to the dismembered digit on the desk. Carver calmly radios for Bonnie, instructing her to bring medical supplies and as you continue to stare at your finger that was no longer attached to your hand, she rushes to your aid and stops the bleeding.  
“Get out of my sight.” Carver growls, his back to you and Bonnie once she had managed to stop the bleeding. Concern fills her face as she observes your paling face, you start to sway and she moves you into a sitting position with your back against the wall once you’re outside Carver’s office. When you come to, you’re back in the pen and the group are discussing in hushed tones an escape plan.  
“Do you think we’ll get out?” You recognise Clementine’s voice in the haze of confusion.  
“Of course we will. We can’t stop now, we’re so close. These times are almost over, and with Luke and Bonnie on our side- we’re going to get out of this just fine.” Carlos’s voice is strong and sure, filled with determination.  
“God save us…” Rebecca’s voice is the last thing you hear before you succumb to unconsciousness.


End file.
